


in between being young and being right

by cenli



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Aged-Up Character(s), Drinking, First Kiss, Future Fic, M/M, second year college daikuros, sons of anarchy spoilers (sort of)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-26
Updated: 2015-07-26
Packaged: 2018-04-11 06:46:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,222
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4425437
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cenli/pseuds/cenli
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Everything is lit up rippling-blue and smells of chlorine and sounds like the incessant hum of a filtration system and Kuroo is looking right back at him, eyes soft. </p><p>OR</p><p> <i>Daichi lets Kuroo convince him to sneak into their college's outdoor swimming pool at three in the morning.</i></p>
            </blockquote>





	in between being young and being right

**Author's Note:**

> this is my first time writing for daikuro so i hope i do them justice!
> 
> title is from ['fourth of july' by fall out boy](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=1j4Pf228vhE) but the fic isn't based around that song (or even really related to it), i just liked the line
> 
> UPDATE: now with the [cutest, best art](http://imgur.com/a/beWXX) ever by the hella talented [jsunny](http://jsunny00.tumblr.com/)!! go check it out/follow her b/c i haven't stopped smiling for the past 12 hours about how adorable her kurodai are

“It’s high. Like, _hella_ high.”

“It’s not that high.”

“No, it’s like thirty meters, that’s pretty fucking high.”

“It’s ten meters.”

“Shut up, Kuroo, you’ve never seen it.”

“Neither have _you_. You don’t even go to this school, how do you even know about the high dive?”

“People talk about it at parties. I heard a kid _died_.”

Daichi snorts, and Bokuto trains red-rimmed eyes on him.

“I’m serious, man.”

“No one dies from falling ten meters into a pool.”

Bokuto blinks slowly, trying to rationalize his argument—difficult for him normally, but nigh impossible with a brain swimming in strawberry rum.

“Okay, but what if the pool had no water?”

“Then the person was an idiot.”

Bokuto’s eyes widen dramatically. “You shouldn’t speak ill of the dead, Kuroo.”

“Okay, okay, sorry.” Kuroo unfolds himself and rises from his seat next to Daichi on the floor, loading his hands with empty beer bottles. “You want another, Sawamura?”

“Ooh, ooh, get me one!”

“You’re cut off, Oikawa. You still need to get home tonight.”

Oikawa pouts and turns back to the television. He’d commandeered the remote earlier in the evening, draping himself across the couch and subjecting the rest of the group to a ten-year-old documentary on Area 51.

“You’re so mean, Kuro-chan.”

“Don’t call me that. Sawamura?”

Daichi holds up his own bottle, still half-full though he’d been sipping it the entire night. Kuroo shakes his head, bemused.

“You should drink more—I’d like to see you cut loose at least _once_.”

“He means he wants to see if you _get_ loose—ow, fuck!”

Kuroo kicks Bokuto as he steps past him, narrowly avoiding the box from their abandoned game of Scrabble.

 

_(“How is Scrabble a drinking game?”_

_“It’s not.”_

_“Then what’s the point?”)_

 

He ducks into the kitchen, the dim lighting making the flush across his cheeks seem more like one-beer-too-many rather than embarrassment.

“What was that for—?”

“Hey, so why didn’t Iwaizumi come tonight?”

“Iwa-chan has a biology field study tomorrow.” Oikawa doesn’t look up, his eyes glued to an exposé on modern crop circles.

“On a Sunday?” Kuroo settles back down next to Daichi, a newly-opened beer in one hand.

“Extra credit, or some other nerdy reason. They’re looking at ant hills.”

Bokuto bolts upright, his sulking over Kuroo’s kick forgotten.

“Isn’t that super dangerous? Like, they ate that guy alive.”

“You’re just full of fun facts about dead people, aren’t you, Bo.”

Bokuto throws a coaster at Kuroo, hitting Daichi square in the face.

“Hey, watch it,” Kuroo hisses, and Bokuto blanches slightly.

“Sorry, Sawamura, but _seriously_! I saw it on Sons of Anarchy.”

Oikawa wrinkles his nose. “Okay, first off, _ew_ , and second, those were fire ants. Iwa-chan is categorizing food search patterns for colonies of regular ants, or something. Fire ants are way worse.”

Kuroo raises an eyebrow. “You watched Sons of Anarchy? I thought you hated gore.”

Oikawa turns to blink at him incredulously. “Oh, I do, but have you _seen_ Jax Teller?”

“Fair point.”

“Mm, but Kuroo likes ‘em shorter—”

“Oh, look at that, it’s one am; isn’t it about time you puke all over yourself and pass out, Bo?”

Daichi tries to hide his snort by taking a sip of beer and promptly splutters cheap ale over a tray of seven consonants.

_(“How is this fair? There’s only two Vs in the entire game and I have both of them.”_

_“You’re not supposed to show your tiles, Sawamura.”_

_“Says Mr. ‘Quizzify-Is-A-Word.’”_

_“Is someone being a sore loser?”_

_“I am so close to shoving these Vs up your nose.”)_

 

Bokuto grins wide and shoots Daichi a thumbs up as Kuroo drags him toward the bedroom at the back of the small apartment.

“Bo-chan is so tactless.”

“Hmm?”

“Nothing.” Oikawa focuses on the television again. “Ooh, look! They’re doing a flyover of a 238 meter circle in Wiltshire, England—that’s a full sixty meters larger than the one discovered in Oxfordshire in 2009, but this one’s design is less intricate…”

Daichi turns his attention back to his beer, trying to decide if his stomach can handle finishing it in one go (or at all). It isn’t that he dislikes Kuroo’s taste in drinks (cheap alcohol is a necessary part of student life, after all), but pumpkin-and-blueberry ale is not something he needed in his life, and Bokuto had downed the majority of the neon-pink strawberry rum on his own (not that Daichi found that much more appealing).

“Shouldn’t you be taking your conspiracy theories home right about now?”

Kuroo reappears, his beer already half-empty, and Daichi debates whether he should admire Kuroo’s ability to hold down any alcoholic beverage, or worry about his apparent lack of taste buds.

“You never tell Sawamura to go home.”

“Because I actually like having him around.”

“So rude—” Oikawa’s indignant retort is muffled by Kuroo tossing a mint-toned pea coat over his face.

“Jokes, jokes, but the last bus leaves in fifteen minutes and Iwaizumi might kill me if you don’t get back safe and sound and not passed out in front of a sorority.”

“That was _once_ , and everyone was super nice about it.”

“Probably because all you were wearing were purple polka-dot briefs.”

“Oh, you actually noticed my ass, Kuro-chan? I thought you only had eyes for—”

“Goodbye, Oikawa.”

“Yeah, yeah. Goodnight, boys!” Oikawa winks at Daichi as the door closes and Kuroo flops down onto the abandoned couch, rubbing his face tiredly.

“Is Bokuto okay?”

“Mm? Oh, yeah, I tucked him in all snug; he’s probably dreaming peacefully about volleyballs and Akaashi’s thighs right now.”

Daichi smiles slightly, taking a sip of beer in lieu of replying—and regretting it instantly when lukewarm, bitter-yet-somehow-syrupy-sweet liquid hits his tongue.

Kuroo peeks through his fingers, smirking when Daichi winces.

“Aw, don’t worry Sawamura, I only have eyes for your thighs.”

“And now _I’m_ going home.”

“Kidding!” Kuroo sits up to tug Daichi down onto the couch next to him, fingers warm around his wrist. “Stay a bit longer.”

Daichi sighs, sinking into the couch cushions and trying to avoid sitting on Kuroo’s feet.

“What do you want to do?”

“Mm…we could finish Scrabble.”

“You were two-hundred points up on me. I didn’t even know that was possible.”

“I _am_ kind of a genius. Maybe we should have played Bo’s version.”

“Where he takes a shot every time he gets frustrated and accuses you of cheating? I still would have lost, and I’d probably be dead right now.”

“Are you quizzifying death, Sawamura?”

Daichi shoves a cushion over Kuroo’s grin, making a mental note to look up that definitely-not-a-word as soon as he has cell reception again. Kuroo only won every time they played because he lived in a concrete block of apartments that bordered on a forest, and any attempt made to challenge his words ended with Daichi standing on the coffee table holding his phone over his head, muttering curses while Kuroo calmly tallied points.

_(“…286, 308. And you have…wait, let me count again. Oh, fifty-two.”_

_“Why can’t we just play poker like normal people?”_

_“And exactly how much money are you willing to lose before we switch to Go Fish? I need a new pair of court shoes, after all.”)_

 

“We could watch the rest of Oikawa’s alien thing.”

“It changed to crop circles—literally the most boring out of all the supernatural phenomenon.”

Kuroo clicks through channels and Daichi absentmindedly picks lint off of the other man’s sweatpants. (Kuroo’s legs had migrated to his lap sometime around “ _I_ am _kind of a genius.”_ )

“You should use dryer sheets.”

“What, and smell like my grandmother?”

Daichi pinches his calf through the material. “I use dryer sheets, thanks.”

“Oh, then maybe I should, so I can smell you wherever I go.”

“You’re a creep, Kuroo.”

Kuroo turns to smile at him, eyes squinted shut, looking satisfied.

“There’s nothing on, unless you want to learn how to make French toast with cinnamon syrup and hand-churned vanilla ice-cream—this actually sounds really good, grab me a pen.”

 

 

Daichi shifts and lifts Kuroo’s feet off gently—they’d started to get heavy when they’d started reminiscing about the one time they _had_ tried poker and Bokuto had pouted because Oikawa explained that aces didn’t win anything on their own.

_(“Then why do they call them ‘aces’? The ace is the best. And you’re not supposed to have more than one ace on a team; a pair of aces makes no sense.”)_

 

“I really should head home. It’s almost two.”

“Do you ever go out and do anything?”

“What do you mean? I’m here almost every weekend.”

“Yeah, but you hardly ever come to parties, rarely get drunk, and you’ve never even _sneezed_ at the law.”

“I went to that party last year…”

“Because I physically dragged you. You sulked for an hour, played one round of beer pong, and then left to, and I quote, ‘ _study_.’”

“It was a week before finals, Kuroo. You should have been studying, too.”

“When was the last time you totally let loose, Sawamura?” Kuroo sits up to face him, eyes glinting in challenge. “Just got lost in the moment, you know?”

“What’s your definition of ‘letting loose,’ then?”

“The high dive.”

“No.”

Daichi turns back to tugging on his shoes. Kuroo leans over the back of the couch and pouts deep enough to rival Oikawa and Bokuto together.

“C’mon, Sawamura, we never do anything fun.”

“Two weeks ago you almost got arrested for peeing on the engineering building.”

“We were _very_ drunk, and besides,” he shrugs, shoulders nonchalant in a ratty Nekoma High School practice shirt. “Got to show those math-nerds who’s boss.”

“The eternally undeclared?”

“I have it narrowed down to biochemistry or classic literature—pretty good considering there’s still a month before the declaration deadline.”

Daichi rolls his eyes and starts pulling apart a piled-high hat stand, looking for his jacket.

“ _Anyway_ , I said _we_ never do anything fun. Like, you and me.”

“Since when is there a ‘you and me’?”

“You wound me, Sawamura.”

“We do plenty of fun things,” Daichi finds his brown corduroy jacket under something neon-green and cat-eared. “Like Scrabble, and Go Fish, and ‘guess how many hair products Bokuto uses to achieve his horns.’”

“Reigning champion!”

“Because you texted Akaashi when you were in the bathroom—I _know_ you did.”

“ _Such_ a sore loser, Sawamura.”

“Either way, my point is proven.”

“Okay, but when was the last time you did something really fun? Like, something that gets your heart racing; something that makes all those boring college courses worthwhile; something—”

“Borderline illegal?”

“Just borderline.” Kuroo’s smile is all white teeth and half-innocent, almost-invisible dimples.

“No. I’m going to go home, get up at a reasonable hour, study for midterms, and maybe try that new sandwich place for lunch.” Daichi shrugs into his jacket and tries not to feel guilty at how Kuroo wilts. “Want to meet up?”

“Yeah, maybe.” Kuroo slumps out of view behind the couch, and the television flicks through channels slowly.

“Goodnight, Kuroo.”

“Night.” Daichi’s heart sinks to somewhere around his knees.

He pauses, hand on the doorknob, about three hundred different arguments for just leaving now and buying Kuroo coffee (black, only one sugar) tomorrow to make up for leaving circulated through his mind.

_(“We never do anything fun. Like, you and me.”)_

 

He swivels and leans over to drag the piles of blankets off of Kuroo’s curled form, coaxing a half-grumpy, half-curious glare.

“Okay, let’s do it.”

“Do what?”

“The high dive.”

“Wait, really?”

The smile that spreads across Kuroo’s face is ecstatic and warm and genuine, and that is almost enough to silence the voice in Daichi’s head telling him that this is probably the worst decision he’ll make all year, and he is probably going to end up dead, or worse, expelled.

 

_(“What if the pool has no water?”_

_“Maybe we’ll get a mention in the Darwin Awards.”)_

 

 

“Why does your apartment have to be at the complete ass-end of campus?”

“Finances, sweetheart. Not all of us are as comfortable as our dear setter- _san_.”

Daichi vaguely remembers Akaashi being dropped off for practice, stepping sedately out of a black SUV with heavy window tints.

“Yeah, I never did catch what his parents do.”

“Not even _Bo_ knows, and every time he asks Akaashi gets all serious. ‘I’m sorry, Bokuto-san, I cannot make you privy—‘”

“Shh!”

Daichi yanks Kuroo down behind a bush at the side of the road, clapping a hand over his mouth for good measure. A neon-striped security Smart Car turns a corner and crawls down the street, sweeping a spotlight over where they had been walking seconds ago.

Daichi waits until the peals of ancient soft rock had faded before releasing Kuroo.

“Did you _lick_ my hand?”

“I’m pretty sure we could have outrun that thing.” Kuroo is attempting to fix his hair—something he probably should have given up on twenty or so years ago.

“Maybe, but I’d rather not test your theory.”

“Well, _I_ could have outrun it, I’m not sure about your tiny—”

Daichi reaches to pull Kuroo’s hood over his hair, mussing it further and causing Kuroo to honest-to-god _hiss_ at him.

“We’re not doing anything illegal.”

“Yet.”

“I didn’t know you were such a delinquent, Sawamura.”

Daichi smiles, lopsided, backlit by pale yellow streetlamps and moonlight. “There’s a lot of things you don’t know about me.”

“Oh, _really_?” Let me just call Sugawa—”

“I will throw your phone in the pool.”

 

 

The blue-green glow of the pool peeks through gaps in trees and bushes and spills onto the street. It was vast—Olympic-regulation size, complete with a diving tower.

Tucked safely behind a two meter fence topped with spikes.

“Are you sure it’s locked? Did you jiggle the handle?”

“It’s a padlock.”

“This is ridiculous.”

“Scared, Sawamura?”

“No one said anything about spikes.”

“No problem, we’ll just climb over and try our best not to get impaled.”

“Wonderful.”

Kuroo reaches and grasps the gaps between the spikes, moving to leverage himself up—

“Wait, wait!”

“Huh?”

Daichi shucks off his jacket and tosses it over the top of the fence: a layer of padding between Kuroo’s long limbs and probably-rusted metal.

“Hey! That was a gift—”

“Climb.”

Kuroo pulls himself up, crouching on Daichi’s jacket, then leers down at him.

“Need help?”

Daichi shoots him a glare, then reaches up to the metal bar, on his tip toes, then hops—and promptly hits the ground again. Kuroo snorts.

“C’mon, Sawamura, we’re a little _short_ on time.”

“I swear I will go home.”

“After we’ve come this far?”

“Would you just…”

Kuroo leans over to grip one of Daichi’s forearms as Daichi reaches upwards. Kuroo heaves, muscles straining until Daichi is clinging next to him, toes perched on both sides of one of the spikes. Kuroo shakes out his arm, wincing slightly.

“First you ruin my hair, then you break my arm; you’re lucky you’re cute, Sawamura.”

Daichi ignores him, staring down at the drop to concrete on the other side.

“Maybe this isn’t—”

“Too late to back out now!”

Kuroo swings his leg over (that flexibility is a little ridiculous), then slides lithely to the ground—accompanied by the distinct sound of ripping corduroy fabric.

“You’re buying me a new one.”

“This whole thing was your idea.” Kuroo stands directly in front of him, arms spread wide. “Jump. I’ll catch you.”

“You’re joking.”

“Would I joke about the safety of my favourite person?”

“Bokuto will be crushed.”

Kuroo grins. “He has Akaashi’s thighs to cry into, I’m sure he’ll be fine.”

“Are they officially a thing now?”

“Maybe soon, it all depends on when Bo gets bored enough of self-pity and pining to actually ask him out. C’mon, my arms are getting tired.”

“That’s not helping me trust your ability to catch me.”

“Have I ever lied to you, Sawamura?”

Daichi rose unsteadily to half-standing, still clutching to one of the jacket-decorated spikes.

“Are you sure?”

“Don’t worry; if you get hurt, I’ll kiss it better.”

“Ready?”

“Always.”

Daichi takes a breath and falls, feeling hands catch under his armpits, chest knocking against chest, Kuroo stumbling backward. Daichi gasps when his knees jar on the ground, falling forward onto his hands. He opens his eyes to find himself leaning over a slightly-winded Kuroo, boxing him in with arms on either side of his head, staring into wide amber eyes.

Everything is lit up rippling-blue and smells of chlorine and sounds like the incessant hum of a filtration system and Kuroo is looking right back at him, eyes soft.

No smirk. No pout.

Just soft.

 

 

“Uh.”

Daichi starts and pushes himself up, rising on half-shaky (and rapidly-bruising knees) and extends a hand for Kuroo to pull himself upright, dropping it as soon as he is steady.

The pool enclosure is bare save for a (probably locked) storage shed at the far end and a looming bright-blue diving tower a few meters from them. Kuroo swallows nervously when he looks at the infamous (according to Bokuto) high dive, and Daichi covers a smile with his palm.

 

 

“We really should have planned this better.”

“Hmm?”

“Swimsuits.”

Kuroo smirks, unzipping his hoodie (the neon-green, cat-eared thing, of course). “Relax, captain, I’m sure you have nothing to be ashamed of.”

Daichi rolls his eyes, toeing off his sneakers and pulling his t-shirt over his head. He is probably going to regret having sacrificed his jacket for Kuroo's safety earlier when the chill of September early mornings meet damp skin, but he's already unzipping his jeans while Kuroo quickly averts his eyes.

Daichi lies his somewhat-carefully-folded clothes on top of his shoes, then crosses his arms over his chest. Kuroo is holding the waistband of his jeans, looking vaguely pink (but it might have been the way reflected pool light played on his cheekbones).

“Did you forget your underwear?”

“No! I just…forgot exactly _which_ underwear I’m wearing.”

“Oh?”

Kuroo glances pointedly at Daichi’s sensible blue boxers, and Daichi smirks.

“Relax, _captain_ , I’m sure you have nothing to be ashamed of.”

Kuroo huffs, then slides out of his jeans to reveal black boxer briefs, a cartoon cat face grinning at Daichi from his crotch.

“Okay, that’s not even that—”

Kuroo turns to place his jeans with his jacket and shoes, ‘GOT MILK?’ written across his ass in large curling letters.

Daichi giggles and Kuroo tries to be as menacing as someone that shade of maroon can be.

 

 

The bottom of the ladder had been removed; the first rung two meters off the ground—and therefore just out of Daichi’s reach.

“I’m trying to think of a solution for you, but I keep coming up _short_.”

“Oh, so you’re feeling better now?”

Kuroo waves a hand dismissively. “Relax, obviously they don’t want people to be able to climb up easily. Otherwise it wouldn’t be a part of the college experience.”

“Can’t we just get drunk and cry to our friends at three in the morning about a cat running away from us? Oh, wait—that’s your regular Tuesday.”

Kuroo’s crosses his arms over his chest. “Rejection hurts, Sawamura.”

“Maybe there’s a ladder in the shed?”

“It’s locked.”

“Did you try pushing instead of pulling?”

“...Yes.”

“Maybe we could jump?”

“ _I_ don’t need to.” Kuroo grins as he reaches up and taps the bottom rung easily, and Daichi gives him a withering glare. “I’ll lift you, don’t worry.”

“…Fine.”

Kuroo cups his hands and Daichi steadies himself on Kuroo’s shoulder with one hand, reaching for the ladder and giving thanks that their training regimen stressed pull-ups.

Reaching the top of the ladder, Daichi stands and sucks in a breath because ten meters seems a lot higher than the five Kuroo’s stacked on top of each other that he’d been imagining.

 

 

“C’mon, scaredy-cat, we don’t have all night.”

Kuroo clutches the hand rails on top of the high dive, resolutely refusing to step onto the actual diving board where Daichi is standing with his hands on his hips.

“Why would you suggest this if you’re afraid of heights?”

“Bo was the one who brought it up, and I’m not afraid of heights. It’s just…really high.”

Daichi bounces in place, the entire board moving with him, and Kuroo squeaks and crouches lower.

“Not scared my ass.”

Kuroo glares at him, not exactly threatening in his current position and attire, and Daichi sighs.

“It’s better if you just jump quickly, then it’s over and done with.”

“ _Or_ I can just stay right here. A kid _died_ , Sawamura.”

“We’re not going to die, Kuroo, and even if someone died it was probably from drowning, not heights.”

“Drowning sounds even worse, so no, I’ll stay right here.”

Daichi cocks his head, then an easy smile spreads across his face.

“Hey, come here.”

“Nuh-uh.” Kuroo shakes his head vehemently. “I’m not falling for that.”

“We can jump together.” Daichi reaches a hand out to him. “Please?”

Kuroo glances between the hand and Daichi’s sweet-as-strawberry-rum smile.

“I’m kind of scared, too, alright?”

Kuroo doesn’t look entirely trusting, but he takes two cautious steps forward and grips Daichi’s hand, peering over the edge and shuddering.

“Ready?”

“Never.”

“What happened to ‘you and me’? Isn’t this exactly what you wanted?”

Kuroo gives him a pained look. “Yes, but…”

“We’re doing it.”

“We die together, my lo—”

Daichi pushes him off the high dive.

 

 

Except, Kuroo’s fingers are still laced tightly with his own, and Daichi is pulled right after him.

 

 

Daichi flounders, gasping, feeling an ache spread from where his ribs had hit the water (or maybe Kuroo had kicked him while trying to reach the surface—that was also very possible). He swipes dripping hair out of his eyes, vision blurring and refocusing with water exposure.

“Swim over here so I can kill you.”

Standing chest deep at the shallow end, Kuroo is glaring at Daichi with all the dignity of a pissed off, half-drowned cat—which was incidentally exactly what he looked like. Daichi flashes him his sunniest smile then dives forward, heading for Kuroo’s legs to pull him under. He goes down kicking up tsunamis and cursing Daichi’s ancestors, but he’s smiling again.

 

The water is surprisingly warm for September, and after thoroughly drenching Kuroo (and swallowing enough chlorinated water to sterilize his insides), Daichi floats on his back, staring at the stars.

“It’s pretty out here.” Kuroo is sitting on the edge of the pool, toes dangling, leaning back on his hands and looking up. “You can’t even see stars where I grew up.”

“Speaking of growing up, you need to decide what your major is going to be. And what you want to do for the rest of your life.”

“What are you, my dad?”

“No, I’m just looking out for you. We’re halfway through second year and you’re still wavering.”

Kuroo chuckles thinly and Daichi turns to see him picking at the tiles at the edge of the pool. “Yeah, I know, but isn’t it good to have fun? Just for a little longer?”

Daichi heaves himself out to sit next to Kuroo and reaches to brush the hair out of his eyes.

“How does it manage to still stand up like that when it’s wet?”

“Uh.” All the harsh angles have vanished from Kuroo’s face, and he is pink again, warm against the palm that’s still resting on his cheek.

“Either way, it’s nice to see that you actually have two eyes, after all.”

Kuroo huffs out a laugh that might have been a sigh save for the grin that came with it, breath warm against Daichi’s skin (Daichi’s wrist, Daichi’s cheeks, Daichi’s lips).

“And you’re right, having fun is good. We should have fun more often. You and me, you know?”

“Daichi—”

Daichi leans forward and tastes chlorine and awful beer and the curve of the smile that spreads across Kuroo’s lips when the shock wears off. Kuroo cups Daichi’s cheeks with warm, slightly water-wrinkled hands and kisses him back, warm and soft and perfect.

Daichi grins against his mouth and runs a hand through unruly hair and loses himself thinking about country stars and Kuroo.

 

 

“ _What the hell are you doing in there?_ ”

“Shit.”

 

 

“So you are, in fact, _not_ faster than a Smart Car.”

“I might have been if you hadn’t tried to rescue your jacket.”

“It was a gift…”

“I’ll buy you another one.”

Water runs in rivulets down their bodies, seeping into twin pools on the pale green linoleum floor of the security office. Daichi had managed to grab a t-shirt in their stumbling attempt to escape campus security, but Kuroo's arms are crossed over his bare chest, shivering; both of them still in damp underwear, both of them red-eyed from spending too much time in a pool. Kuroo’s hair, surprisingly, looks the most normal out of both of their appearances.

“If we get kicked out of college over this I’m going to kill you.”

“At least I’ll die with a smile on my face. Maybe you can crush my head with those thighs—”

Daichi knocks into him, sending them both tumbling onto the floor, Kuroo’s ensuing laughter mingling with Daichi’s shouted promises of a slow death by fire ants, or listening to Oikawa talk about the legitimacy of the first moon landing, or _drowning_.

**Author's Note:**

> fun fact! my old college had an outdoor swimming pool with a high dive that people kept jumping off when they weren't supposed to, so they removed the ladder. i don't know why this fact jumped into my head, but this fic was the result!


End file.
